


Sheena is...

by Amalia Kensington (amaliak01)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Undercover, case shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-07
Updated: 2013-08-07
Packaged: 2017-12-22 18:11:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/916417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amaliak01/pseuds/Amalia%20Kensington
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“This is for the case, John. I needed an expert to get us into the building undetected.” He pushed through the doors and greeted the pathologist. “Molly! Just the person I was looking for!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sheena is...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Emcee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emcee/gifts).



“Do hurry up, John,” Sherlock said impatiently as his blogger climbed into the waiting cab.

 

“St Barts,” Sherlock said to the cabbie before addressing John again. “They are hiding something, I just know it. There is absolutely no way they could have managed it without a location in which to stash it.”

 

“Right, well, it could be anywhere, couldn’t it? There’s storage places, an endless supply of warehouses. And that’s just in the city. Needle in a haystack unless there’s a paper trail,” John replied.

 

Sherlock flipped through some data on his phone. “No, a man like Rocher wouldn’t leave things that much to chance or have the operation so far out of his sight. A man who takes pains to iron his own cuffs wouldn’t handle it any other way.” He smiled at something he read on his phone and then turned to John. “We’ll have to do some research.”

 

John’s eyes widened in panic for a moment. “Oh no, I know that look. That’s the one you get when I’m going to end up in some sort of fancy dress, ducking out of windows in the dead of night. Count me out, mate.”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous, John. There will hardly be any windows.”

 

******

 

“Wait, why are we here?” John asked as they walked the hallways towards the morgue. “There’s not even a body in this case.” It slowly dawned on him what was going on, and he smirked at his flatmate. “Sherlock, if you wanted to see your girlfriend, you didn’t have to bring me along on the excuse for a case.”

 

Sherlock paused outside the morgue doors. “This is for the case, John. I needed an expert to get us into the building undetected.” He pushed through the doors and greeted the pathologist. “Molly! Just the person I was looking for!”

 

The petite woman raised her eyes to look at her visitors. “Oh, hullo Sherlock. Hi, John. I was just finishing up with Mister Collins, here,” she said, cutting at the end of the thread to finish her incision. She pulled off her bloodied gloves and her mouth cover. “What’s going on?”

 

“Molly, it is imperative to the case we are on that you help us be able to blend in at The Den,” Sherlock said, clasping his hands behind his back and smiling at her.

 

“The Den?” Both John and Molly asked at the same time, though seeking different types of answers.

 

“Yes, one of Mr Rocher’s many nightclubs. This one caters to a particular crowd however, and I believe we shall find the evidence we are looking for there. Strictly research.”

 

John frowned. “Particular crowd?”

 

“Punk rockers,” Sherlock supplied.

 

Molly’s mouth hung open in shock and John frowned. “Molly can help with that?”

 

“Of course,” Sherlock responded with a smile.

 

“N-no, I can’t,” Molly stuttered, stepping away from the body on her slab.

 

“What makes you think Molly can get you into a punk rock club?” John asked incredulously. “No offense,” he addressed Molly.

 

“Believe it or not, John, in her younger years Molly was very much involved in the punk lifestyle,” Sherlock said.

 

“Sherlock!” Molly protested, a blush appearing on her cheeks.

 

“She was in a band with three other girls. They called themselves The Fuc--”

 

“SHERLOCK!” Molly screeched, cutting him off, red as beet. “That was in uni, almost ten years ago!”

 

John’s eyebrows were raised in surprise and he smiled teasingly at Molly. “What was the band called?”

 

“The Fudging Sheenas,” Molly mumbled before turning towards the sink and washing her hands.

 

“Not ‘fudging’,” Sherlock muttered to John with a wink.

 

“Seriously?” John chuckled.

 

“Oh yes. I found a photograph of them all with...well, a rather rude note scribbled on the back,” Sherlock explained.

 

“You didn’t so much find it as dig it out from an old photo album when you were bored in my flat,” Molly said, coming over to stand beside them and poking Sherlock in the chest. He grabbed her fingers and kissed them lightly and smiling at her.

 

“Wait, Sheenas? Like the Ramones song?” John asked and Molly blushed again.

 

“Yeah, we thought we were being clever,” she replied. She scrunched her nose a bit. “We weren’t terribly good, but it was fun.”

 

Molly eyed her boyfriend, who was currently doing his best to look irresistible as he rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. She heaved a heavy sigh. “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”

 

John snorted beside her. “Yup.”

 

Sherlock kissed her cheek and grinned.

 

*****

Molly pushed on Sherlock’s shoulder once they’d settled into the cab and were heading properly off back to 221B.

 

“What was that, please?” she asked in a shrill voice, still trying to catch her breath.

 

“Brilliant,” Sherlock replied, still a bit breathless himself even as his baritone laugh filled the small space. “That was bloody brilliant! And you were magnificent! I knew I could count on you.”

 

“Count on me to what? Nearly get beaten up? Running away from thugs that probably had gun and a crowd of angry punks?” she was punctuating every other word with a punch to his arm.

 

He continued to laugh even as he grabbed her wrists to stop her assault on him, pulling her in to kiss her lips and quiet her protests. While resisting at first, she eventually softened against him, kissing him back as he released her wrists to slide his hands to her waist.

 

He pulled back to catch his breath, leaning his forehead against hers. “Yes, to all of it. Like I said, brilliant.”

 

Molly huffed a bit even as she rubbed her nose against his. “Fine. Thank you. But next time, you could warn me that our old rival band--who inexplicably still hate us, by the way--would be still playing at this club tonight and would recognize me and literally try to beat me to a pulp.”

 

“I knew you could handle it, and if you hadn’t gotten us in backstage, we would have never found where Rocher was stashing the merchandise,” Sherlock kissed behind her ear. “This case is solved, thanks to you.”

 

Molly sighed and gave him a grudging smile before reaching up and lightly touching the fake eyebrow piercing he as sporting. “Well, I suppose there’s that.” She smiled wickedly at him, “And I have to admit that you look rather gorgeous with that eyeliner.”

 

Sherlock rolled his eyes at this but still pulled her closer, rubbing his nose against the skin of her neck as his hands slipped up her sides. “I would be lying if I said that part of my insistence wasn’t to see you in the outfits I knew you still had in that box in the back of your closet.” The tips of his fingers ghosted over the top edge of the black corset with bright red cherries she was wearing, feeling both the smoothness of the fabric and the softness of her skin.

 

Molly leaned into him, slanting her mouth against his almost frantically, adrenaline and desire fueling them both, hands roaming freely, leaving no room for the imagination as to where exactly this was leading as soon as they arrived at their destination.

 

“Yeah, actually still here,” John deadpanned from the other end of the cab, hoping to God the blue dye in his hair wasn’t permanent.

 

******

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a visual to go with Molly's look: http://artbylexie.tumblr.com/post/49110958470/


End file.
